Still a Mystery
by azkabcn
Summary: Sherlock and John are old acquaintances reunited. Sherlock is then introduced to John's cousin. Three months after the initial introduction, she tells the detective that she loves him. He brushes it off. But then he realizes something entirely the opposite of what he first thought. AU one-shot.


**A/N: Well, I guess I should start with a very big Hello to the** _ **Sherlock**_ **fandom. I only recently discovered Sherlock through an English lesson and I knew I was in love with it (the show and Sherlock Holmes himself ;) ) This is my first time writing Sherlock and my biggest fear is not getting his amazing deductions spot on.**

 **I hope you all enjoy this, and please, do leave a review. :)**

When John started saying he was looking for a place to rent, I knew it.

And from the way he hesitated as he stared at me and said, "I... I'm looking for a flat to rent," I knew that he knew it too.

I knew _him_. He was John H. Watson. _The_ John H. Watson that I spent most of my younger school years with. I couldn't believe it.

While I was thinking, it looked like John was onto something new. He croaked (I say croaked; his voice was almost inaudible) out, "Sherlock?" and I had no choice but to smile.

"Well," I said, my hands behind my back. "It looks like we make each other's acquaintance once again, Mr Watson."

His look of pleasant surprise turned to that of confusion. "Oh, it's actually _Dr_ Watson, now, Sherlock," he informed me.

I walked up to him. Mike - the man that had brought him in here - looked from John to me. "Oh, is it now? I didn't know." Yes, I did.

He smiled, and despite how much time had passed, I could still see the young John Watson in his eyes (weird; I couldn't usually read people like that). "Well, of course you didn't, Sherlock. It's been at least a decade and a half-"

I sighed, already exasperated. "Seventeen years, John." He looked at me, terribly confused. "I left the school when I was ten and you were eleven. I am now twenty seven, making you twenty eight; since it is a month and three days past February twenty second."

He took a minute to collect himself, and then he smiled again. "Wow," he said, the tone of surprise evident in his voice. "You certainly still are the same, old Sherlock Holmes."

"You expected me to change?" I asked him, taking on his earlier confusion. Why should I have changed?

"While the answer to that is yes, that's not my point," he concluded.

"Go on..." I prompted, not quite sure where this was going.

"I'm just saying, how did you remember all of that? More importantly, my birthday?"

I smiled to myself and turned to walk back to my microscope. "One of the important things I keep in my hard drive," I said absent-mindedly.

John walked towards me, his walking stick clicking against the floor. "You know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, right? And quite correctly so?" I asked as I sat at the desk.

"How...?" I heard John say behind me.

"Oh, John," I sighed, shaking my head. "I know you're now an Army doctor and you've been invalidated home from Afghanistan. I know your brother Harry is worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you disapprove of him - possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife," I deduced, taking a deep breath as I finished. I reached for a pipette and petri dish.

And the next thing I knew was that John had me tightly wrapped in a one armed hug. I took a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, you," I heard him mutter. The sudden impact loosened my fingers and the equipment I was holding dropped to the floor with a clatter.

Oh bother.

John finally released me, and even though I was facing away from him, I could practically _see_ the smirk on his face. "What?" I asked as I reached down to pick up the petri dish and pipette.

John chuckled. "You've never met my sibling, have you?"

I was about to reply with a 'you know I haven't' when something else caught my attention. My body froze in uncertainty. I turned to face him slowly, raising an eyebrow. "You say sibling?" I inquired.

His smile told me that I was probably going to be proved wrong somehow. "Harry is short for Harriet," he told me. I was right.

"Damn it!" I cursed, banging my fist against the table.

"Sorry, Sherlock. I just had to," John said, shrugging.

"Whatever," I muttered, returning my focus to the experiment at hand.

xxx

I worked at it for what felt like hours. I didn't usually like the quiet but it was nice when I was working or thinking.

But here it was _too_ quiet. _Where was John?_

Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away from the experiment and turned back to where John had been standing. What was there instead of my old friend scared me out of my skin.

A woman. A woman with wavy blond locks reaching her shoulders. She had on a waist length, blue leather jacket, blue jeans and trainers. Her arms were crossed over her chest and in her left hand she clutched a phone. She was smirking. She terribly reminded me of John.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Doesn't matter, Mr Holmes," she chided in a sweet, honey coated voice. I shuddered. "What matters is that you're absolutely _gorgeous_ ," she said, walking towards me, her hands never leaving her chest.

I turned back away from her. "Who. Are you?" I asked again, this time more forcefully.

"Oh, please don't take that tone with me, Mr Holmes." She put her phone on the table and took my shoulders. Once again, I froze. What was her problem?

Ah. I got it. Taking a glance at both her shaking hands, I understood. The flirtatiousness was an act. But that didn't mean I had to like it.

"Get off of me," I ordered.

"John won't like it if you talk to me like that," she told me.

"No, but he's right. Get off him, Ava." It was John.

Finally, this 'Ava' let me go. "And no, I don't like it when you talk to her like that, Sherlock."

"So, now you decide to show up," I said to John, rolling my eyes. "What's going on?"

"She's my _cousin_ , Sherlock," he explained, like he thought I would think differently.

"And... I need to know because?"

"If we end up renting a flat, she's going to have to stay with us," John explained.

I growled. One person living with me I could just about tolerate. Two people? It was going to be hell.

"No," I said simply. "Either _one_ of you shares my flat, or you both find somewhere else to stay. Take your pick."

"Please, Sherlock. I have to take care of her," John pleaded.

"If that's the case, then both of you can find another flat to rent," I said forcefully.

I picked up the equipment lying on the table around me. I stood and walked up to the sink, where I rinsed it all out. I left it to dry on the draining board; my colleague, Molly Hooper, would tidy it away tomorrow.

I took my jacket from its hook on the door and put it on. I wound my scarf around my neck. I opened the door and looked back at John. "Outside?" I asked, nodding at the hallway that stretched before me. And then I walked out.

I waited for a while to see if John would do as I asked. After a minute or so, the door squeaked open again. "What?" John asked impatiently. He half expected me to tell him why he, Avalon and I couldn't share a flat. And yes, I said Avalon. John's cousin's full first name.

I looked into the glass window of the door. "Does she always get this frightened when meeting people?"

"Uh, no?" John replied, looking flustered.

I smiled again as I walked around in front of him. "To answer your question, her hands were shaking, her words were stuttered, and I could feel her rapid heartbeat as she leant against me. Or it could just be my sociopathic charm, but I doubt that. So fright is the only option left," I concluded.

"Right. OK-"

"I better get going," I said, turning on my heel and walking away. A couple of metres away, I turned back around to see John's stunned face looking at me. "Oh, and tell Avalon the address is 221b Baker Street. Both of you, meet me there in half an hour."

And then I walked and didn't turn back.

xxx

"Where _were_ you?" I heard from inside the flat. Quickly, I took off my coat and scarf, which left me in my purple shirt and trousers.

As I neared the entrance to the living room, I paused abruptly. Avalon stood before me in the doorway, her face set in a look of panic. _Why would she be getting so panicky?_ ran inside my head repeatedly. Scanning her over, once and twice, I realised that she had panic disorder. And that she was worried for my and John's safety.

Worried for John, I could understand: the man was her cousin. But worried for me? That was new. (And I knew she was worried about me; why else would she not have waited for John?)

"What?" I asked as I walked past her into the room.

Then the panic turned to anger. "What?! You've been gone for _three_ fricking hours and in that time you were investigating _suicides_ and you have the nerve to 'What?' me?! Seriously?!"

"They weren't suicides; they were murders," I stated flatly as I sat in my chair. I heard her growl.

"Sherlock!" John warned as he came into the room. Then he turned to Avalon. "Avalon," he said. "Don't panic, we're fine. We weren't murdered, although _someone_." I caught his glare. It was definitely directed towards my earlier stupidity. "Came ridiculously close to being just that!"

"Don't!" Avalon cried, holding her ears.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry!" He sounded apologetic. After making sure that Avalon was alright (by sitting her down in his chair and hugging her), he said, "I'll be in the kitchen, you two." John's voice softened as he left us slowly.

After that, there was a long, slightly awkward silence. Finally, I screwed up the nerve to ask her a question, rather afraid of what the answer would be. "Why were you worried about me?"

"What?" she asked, turning to face me. I started to repeat my question until she interrupted me.

"Because... Look, this is going to sound totally crazy, and I know it's only been three months since we met... but I-I can't help but feel that I... love you..." She turned away. And then she mumbled, "And I worry about those I love."

I sat, pondering her words. This woman said she loved me. This woman that was related to my best friend. This woman that-

"So?" I heard, the voice shaking me from my thoughts. "What does my... confession mean... for you?"

I stood up, brushing myself off. "I think..."

"Yes?"

"That you must be mistaken." I walked to the door of the kitchen. Turning back to see her look of disbelief and rejection, I said, "No one could love me. It's really not a mystery why."

Then I left her behind me.

xxx

No. No, no, no, no, no. This is not happening. This is so not happening. This is _so_ not happening.

No, not the fact that I was panicking, but the fact that I was letting something unwanted worm itself into my hard drive.

I paced around the living room and ran my hand through my black hair. I growled and as John came into the room, he looked at me curiously. "You OK, Sherlock?" he asked as he stopped abruptly.

"Where's Avalon?" I asked. I stopped walking when I reached my chair.

"Out. With her friends." I knew that he was curious. "Why?" His voice had a suspicious edge to it.

I slumped into my chair, put my feet up and rested my forehead against my knees. "I'm falling, John," I complained.

"No, you're not," he replied, chuckling slightly.

I lifted my head up, my eyes flashing daggers. "No, you idiot!" I grumbled. "I'm _metaphorically_ falling!" I repositioned my head with a clack.

"Oh, right. Carry on."

"I'm falling... for her..." I waited for his reaction. I couldn't hear anything, but I could definitely make out the smirk that would most likely be glued to his face.

"Who?" he asked, trying to keep the I-so-told-you tone out of his voice.

"Your cousin," I muttered darkly.

"Avalon? Wait. You're telling me that you, Sherlock Holmes, are in love with someone?" John said, the disbelief evident in his voice.

I lifted my head, crossed my arms on top of my knees and rested my chin against them. "I tried my best not to," I said, somewhat forlornly.

John sat opposite me in his own chair. "You don't need to feel bad. It's normal."

I shook my head. "Not for me, it's not. Why am I letting non-important things into my brain? If I do that, then I have to delete the important things! Which takes away my crime-solving, sociopathic abilities!" I half-yelled, sitting up properly.

"Sherlock, calm down. Tell me _what_ you love about her," John said.

It was my turn to look on in confusion. "You don't care that I love your cousin?!" I asked incredulously.

"...OK, you got me, it is a little weird, having my best friend love my cousin." I opened my mouth to protest, but he beat me to it. " _But_ I don't mind. Now, answer my question."

I took a deep breath. "I love the way her midnight blue eyes shine whenever she's excited; I love how her hair is always full of life; I love the way her cheeks blush crimson when she's so sweetly embarrassed. I love her smile when she's happy, how it lights up her whole face." My own face smiled as I spoke. "But most of all, I love her 'bad girl' side. The side she uses when no one but me can see her. Her flirtatious side.

"John, when she flirted, it used to annoy the hell out of me, but now, now I can listen to it all day. Recently, I've wanted to flirt back, but if I don't tell her I love her, she'll think I'm leading her on," I wound up with eventually.

"Whoa. You really do love her, don't you?" John said, about a minute after I had finished. "And you are going to tell her that."

I shook my head. "No, I-"

"Yes. You are."

And, as if on cue, Avalon herself burst through the front door, calling: "I'm back, guys!" I couldn't help but smile fondly.

John got up off his chair, walked up to me and clapped a hand onto my shoulder. 'You can do this,' he mouthed, before leaving the room.

I took a deep breath again and stood up. As she came to the door, I went to meet her. "Here, Ava. Let me take your bags." Without waiting for her reply, I took her many shopping bags from her and put them on the floor beside us. Flustered, she made to walk around me, but I stopped her, catching her wrist. "Wait a second," I whispered.

Her cheeks started to redden and I had to let out a fond smile. "Ava, remember that day, a couple of weeks ago, you told me you loved me?" As she nodded, I inched closer to her leaving a small gap between us. "Well, I..." I rested my forehead against hers. "I can finally say... I love you, too."

And then I cupped her face with both my hands. I kissed her, softly at first, giving her a chance to pull back if she wanted to. But she didn't. Instead she kissed me back with so much passion. Her hands travelled up past my shoulders, my cheeks and finally buried themselves in my hair, pulling softly on my curls. I gently pushed her up against the wall. My eyes fell shut; I was so content.

When we parted, I saw how brightly her face was shining. "You have no idea how long I've waited to do that," she whispered.

"Three and a half months?" I joked.

We both laughed, and then she kissed me again.

God, this felt so right. I didn't know why I worried.

xxx

I watched them both from the kitchen: my cousin and my best friend, both lip locked and completely lost in each other. I saw her hands entwined in his hair, and his protective hold on her. I couldn't help smiling and thinking _Sherlock, I told you you could do it._

 **A/N: Here you go. In my first two drafts of this, I was going to make it a Johnlock and Sherlolly story, respectively. But then I realised that neither John nor Molly would flirt like Avalon did. I could have brought Irene or Janine into the picture, but I hate those two. I really do. Who calls the World's Only Consulting Detective 'Sherl'? Seriously, now. His name is SHERLOCK and Sherlock only. End of.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. There's a box down below to write your thoughts ( or if you're on Mobile there's a button saying 'review') so please, write your thoughts and review.**


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